


Limerence

by ToxicBabes



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Crushes, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Rainbow (Rainbow Six)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:59:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29534412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicBabes/pseuds/ToxicBabes
Summary: A conversation where Timur is starstruck by his admiration for his colleague and Maxim is much more than a stoic, battle-hardened soldier.
Relationships: Maxim "Kapkan" Basuda/Timur "Glaz" Glazkov
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	Limerence

From the days of cadets to where Timur stood now, he had always been aware of the strange tension amongst many men. An invisible hierarchy, a need to prove oneself to others, a natural hostility because being too friendly would be perceived as a weakness. Follow the pecking order or be beaten into conformity. There had been times when he fought back, though he came to learn that sometimes a little sycophancy went a long way. 

That being said, he knew to steer clear of those who were disingenuous with their loyalty. There was a fine balance between being ostracised by his peers and sucking up to them too much. Over the years, he found himself mastering this skill. They liked him enough that he avoided most teasing, though they did not regard him to be worthy to be invited to get drinks or spend leisurely time together. For Timur, that was fine. 

He kept to himself, did his job well, kept a clean record. When it came to his superiors, he maintained respect and humility, even if he would have loved to talk back at certain times. It wasn’t to say he was on his best behaviour everyday. He got into trouble here and there though kept it under the radar.

Unlike the well-liked men, Timur did not have a dazzling presence. In ways he was unnoticeable and discreet in large groups, though many came to learn that he was a charismatic character in quieter conversations. Not too arrogant, yet not a doormat. It became clear over time that Timur Glazkov could be a potential candidate for special operations forces. All it took was a little reliability and humbleness.

Along with the promotion, Timur knew he would have to repeat the process of integrating himself amongst his new colleagues. It was always daunting. Nervousness about being liked, living up to all the expectations, not knowing where the next mission might take him. Perhaps a new country or to his grave. As much as he liked to humour the dark possibilities, Timur pushed himself to focus on reality. This was one of his biggest achievements and he ought to enjoy the experience it would give him.

Many of his coworkers had years of experience under their belt, their names gilded with honour for bravery. Timur was not the sort to ask about their history, he knew well enough what it was like to dredge up buried memories. Though sometimes word got around and when Timur learned about Maxim Basuda, he was intrigued for sure. 

They talked a handful of times, drank together at the bar with the other men. The impression Timur got of him was that he was a reserved guy, brotherly in many ways and that his hardened demeanour was wildly misleading from the man he really was. Maxim was definitely privy to the playful nature hiding under Timur’s professional facade. There was something about how they looked at one another, the slightest curve of their lips into those sly smirks for no apparent reason. 

Timur wasn’t sure if it was his own biases persuading him, but he was convinced they gravitated towards one another. The lone thought that _the_ Maxim Basuda enjoyed talking to him was truly absurd. Timur couldn’t fathom why, too busy caught up in reminding himself of all the stories he heard about Maxim. 

The memory of the television reports lingered in Timur’s mind after so many years. He recalled following the tragedy of Beslan, how that single event had changed the trajectory of his life. There was something surreal to him that his own colleague had taken part in it, even if it wasn’t too long ago. And a part of Timur was enamoured with the _thought_ of him. He had conjured up a fanciful image of Maxim, but when it came to talking to the man, there were some discrepancies that could not be ignored.

For one, Beslan had not cropped up in any of their conversations. Timur thought about it fairly often, yet he was cautious not to sour their relations. He wished to ask about it. If there could ever be a time when Maxim would sit down and tell him about it, Timur would listen intently. Oh, he would.

Though days trailed by and Timur found himself wanting to seek him out, aware not to seem too needy yet he didn’t want to be avoidant. He liked Maxim for sure, enjoyed talking to him, joking around, having a smoke. Being in his presence brought feelings of warmth and contentment. When Maxim would approach him, Timur could not shake off the elation of being _chosen._

It wasn’t that he was constantly struck with this illusioned perception of Maxim. Timur had his moments of clarity where he reminded himself that worshipping Maxim was excessive. Yes, he was his superior due to seniority, but Maxim Basuda was no god and Timur needn’t think about this so hard. Despite the rational side of him consoling his worries, he could not quell the butterflies conjuring up a storm in the pit of his stomach.

This little dilemma was just a distraction from the pressures of the promotion and Timur did not know what was worse. The fear of being incompetent at his job or embarrassing himself in front of the man he respected the most. Both. Both would be dreadful. He would take the next flight back to Vladivostok, get a job at the shipyard and forget this ever happened. 

Training was not anything out of the usual. He did not feel as if he was underperforming in any way, but there were days when his nerves got the better of him. Minor mistakes knocked him out of his rhythm and he often spent way too long pondering about them in his free time- like he was now, wandering aimlessly with his hands stuffed in his pockets, burning the minutes of his lunch break. 

The snow from last night remained undisturbed where he walked and he appreciated the soft crunch under his boots. He had been absorbed in his own mind, brows furrowed and gaze downcast as his legs brought him across the grounds of the expansive base. If he wanted, he could walk a thousand laps around the place to work out the tangle of thoughts clouding his head, but there were only so many minutes of his free time. 

Someone was calling for him. Whirling around, Timur caught sight of someone sitting on the bench he passed several paces ago. Maxim Basuda, sitting there with a cup of coffee. Timur swallowed the lump in his throat and sauntered up to him with a small smile. His expression was too attentive, but he couldn’t help it.

“Man, you were daydreaming. I called you a dozen times,” Maxim said with a breathy laugh, white mist and cigarette smoke escaping from his mouth and nostrils as if he were a dragon. He patted on the bench for Timur to sit down next to him. “You got somewhere to be?” 

Their shoulders bumped and the contact set Timur’s thoughts into a tense stillness. Was he sitting too close? 

“No, I was just on a walk,” he said and refrained from wrinkling his nose at the stink of smoke. The smell was everywhere now, invading every fibre of his clothes and his being. He couldn’t help but to glance over at Maxim when he took a drag, completely wondrous at how he could make a repulsive act seem so charming. 

“How are you finding things?” Maxim’s tone was less casual and held a sincerity that caught Timur off guard. They talked about it a while ago- those feelings of nervousness. “I think you’re settling in.”

Timur blinked for a brief moment, unsure of what he felt. He hadn’t had the time to think about it. “More or less,” he half-agreed then considered if he could afford to be honest. He had good faith in Maxim and reckoned it couldn’t hurt to ask for some wisdom. “I just… I always feel like I don’t belong here. What do they call it? Imposter syndrome?” 

This display of weakness did not intend to ask for pity. Timur assumed their friendship was genuine and that he could speak from his heart rather than being polite about his responses. It relieved him to know he was right and that the older man did not mind carrying the baggage. Maxim laughed out of sympathy, his lips pursed around the filter of his cigarette. The end of it glowed as he took a drag then he looked towards Timur, those striking eyes studying him. 

“Well, listen. The folks who don’t belong here either die or get kicked out. So far you’re still here so as far as we’re concerned, you’re fine. Plus, I’ve seen you shoot. You don’t miss, hm?” Maxim nudged him lightly with his elbow. 

The compliment helped ease Timur’s apprehension slightly and they enjoyed a long silence. Icy air prickled their cheeks and the coldness from the bench beneath them seeped through every layer of their trousers. The small cup of black coffee was still steaming and Timur could barely catch the aroma, watching in his peripheral vision as Maxim drank it down. 

A quiet sniffle, the rustle of their gorkas, then Maxim cleared his throat and spat on the ground. The act itself was something Timur saw to be too uncivil, something his mother would have quietly criticised under her breath when they walked home from the grocery store. Men who spit were no better than animals, she had told him. 

Though Maxim made it look manly. Everything about him exuded a masculine energy, a rugged toughness that had Timur feeling bashful in his presence. From the way he joked around with the other lads, the way they looked up to him too, his ferocity when it came to training. Timur had not felt such admiration for another person in his life and he was beginning to feel silly for it. 

“When did you learn to shoot like that?” Maxim asked. The afternoon sun left them basking in warm light. He squinted when he looked towards Timur, the creases at the corners of his eyes deepening. 

Maybe he expected an answer with an impressive backstory. Like Timur had been learning to shoot since he came out of the womb and that his family had an extensive history connected with the military. Though in reality, he wasn’t any of that. “I’m not sure, maybe when I was around sixteen or seventeen. I transferred to cadets,” he explained, not wanting to give too many details in fear that it would be disappointing in some way. 

“Ah, so you’re a natural?” Maxim’s suggestion came as a veiled compliment. He had a brow raised in question, his thin lips curved into a languid smile. They grinned at one another and Timur tried his damnedest to be cool about it, responding with a cheeky shrug. “Have you ever been hunting?” 

“Only fishing,” Timur said. “My father used to make me go with him.”

“I think you’d be good at it,” Maxim simply stated. “If we ever get time off, we could go together and I can show you how to. Unless you’re like everyone else and you’ve got a dozen kids to take care of and a wife who misses you so badly.”

The thought of it amused Timur because in no reality would that be possible. “Me? No,” he said then gave a soft chuckle. “No wife. Or kids.” 

“Yeah, same here- I hope.” Maxim faked a nervous snigger before they broke into misty laughter. He fidgeted with his packet of cigarettes for a brief moment and his mouth twitched as if the absence of a cigarette sandwiched at the corner of his lip was a foreign feeling. He remedied the urge with some chewing gum and he offered Timur some. Then a second thought had seized him so suddenly and he shifted, turning his body to face Timur with an attentiveness. “But really. I can take you hunting if you want to.” 

The offer left Timur astounded and he scolded himself for being so tense. This was not like his usual self and he hated that he could barely relax around Maxim. With all of this aside, the hopeful and expectant expression on Maxim’s face was definitely something else. His brows were raised, faint lines drawn across his forehead as he awaited an answer. This eagerness was hard to refuse. This wasn’t anything like heading to the bar for drinks or getting together with some mates to watch football.

“That’d be cool,” Timur agreed to it with a nod. “I’d love that.”

“Yeah? Alright.” Maxim’s toothy grin revealed his chipped canine and it left Timur’s palms slicking over. Something incredibly captivating about that smile, the way he chewed slowly and with thought as if Timur’s answer had pleased him somehow. 

It made Timur think about his answer as well. That he’d _love_ to go hunting with Maxim. And the butterflies in his stomach roused with excitement once more.

**Author's Note:**

> My Twitter is [@CompoundZ8](https://twitter.com/CompoundZ8)  
> My Tumblr is [erc-7](https://erc-7.tumblr.com)


End file.
